The Curse of Conception
by ARaeOfHappiness
Summary: Unable to escape a fate that was decided for him years ago, sixteen year old Sebastian Riddle is sent to Hogwarts on a mission, one that was left behind by a man who has made his life challenging since birth, even from the grave. But is it honestly possible for a boy with such a dark past to be acknowledged as the average student? Others cannot help but to question...Why now?


**~ A/N ~** Hello, lovely readers. I would first like to point out that there have been several occasions where fans write about the offspring of Voldie, which I usually really enjoy, but I wanted to put my own spin on things with this. I'm hoping to develop it into quite the fanfic for present and future Tom Riddle fans. Another thing that I would like to add before anyone notices is that I have decided to adjust the timeline somewhat to make the plot more consistent. This particular fic is set sixteen years after the final war, but I wanted to include the next generation, which will affect the ages of Harry's children and co. in the process. They will be a few years older, which I know pushes their time of conception slightly. Anyway, I hope you don't mind too much and if you do, I'm sorry but I don't know what else to tell you. Please do review and encourage me to keep the muse if you enjoy this tiny little introduction!

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The pipes had been leaking consistently for years, tempting him to rise out of bed each morning. The downstairs windows were ajar this particular dawn and an almost unfamiliar breeze found its way through the stuffy cottage to brush against the adolescent's clammy face. Footsteps could be heard more so pounding than stepping up the creaking, crookedly placed staircase that led to their hilariously small toilet and his bedroom. She had collapsed to her knees, as she did most mornings, and was retching loudly into the not so porcelain bowl. Drunk to the point of sickness, again. "Sebastian!" She shrieked unattractively in between gasps for breath. She was pathetic, but he rolled out of his sheets and stood to his feet without protest, a blank stare occupying his features as he strolled lightly over to his mother's side.

"You were drinking again," he stated, dark eyes narrowed only slightly. He knew better than to speak to her with a tone drenched in disrespect. It was much wiser to do it in moderation.

"That is hardly any of your concern, child!" Disoriented eyes flickered upward - scanning the young man's face - before she gave a dramatic whimper of displeasure. Sebastian was used to this, though, she was constantly making bitter remarks about his appearance and how it pained her or made her wish for death. With hollow cheekbones and pale skin, jet black hair and deep eyes, full lips and a vacant gaze, he was nearly his father's clone, before the mutilation. "He left you here to _torture_ me," she mused, dabbing at a dark circle underneath her piercing green eyes. "You're such a bright and handsome boy, Sebastian. Honestly, love, we could be _something_ again. Wouldn't you like that? Do you not want to give your mother that kind of happiness?" They were back to this conversation. "Your father would hate to see you wasting such potential, living as a nobody. _Tch_! You are his flesh and blood...

You are destined for greatness! I have told you time and time again, _darling_, go to the damn school and make a name for yourself!"

She was constantly using overly affectionate pet names when she desired something. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and spoke in an unnaturally calm tone of voice. "And then what? You don't find it suspicious in the slightest that I've waited five years to attend school? Impure, most of them are, but not entirely moronic."

She latched onto the claw foot bathtub for support as she cackled and stumbled to her feet. "You underestimate me, _love_. Correct - you have yet to attend Hogwarts. However, the history of your education is unknown, as is where you attended school previously. I would obviously need to pull a few strings to have the job done," she paused to hiccup. "_properly_."

Sebastian could not resist, he turned on his heel and rolled his eyes so far back into his head that it should have been dangerous. A mature and thoughtful boy of sixteen, he failed to comprehend what mark he could possibly make at a school occupied by young adults who were simply there to learn in the first place. '_Your father did it. Oh, he was an extraordinary man, a genius really. Your father was the greatest sorcerer of the wizarding age and will continue to be until the end of time. Nobody compares!' _The speech echoed through the depths of his mind on a daily basis, taunting him to the point of self-consciousness and inferiority. When was the first time she had recited it to him? He was not sure, but could easily imagine the wiry-haired woman putting her newborn to bed with tales of a man who had never loved her, a bottle of stolen chardonnay likely nearby. Her own offspring could not imagine a man who she described to be so great and powerful, loving anyone, let alone a woman who was pitifully attached. There was nothing quite special about the woman who had birthed him.

Vivienna DeAugustine was the daughter of one of his earlier followers, or fanatics. Sebastian's grandmother had gone to school with Tom and had collected photographs of his teenage father for years, hoping to one day be with somebody so persuasive and charming. She had held onto every word that escaped his mouth with effortless dedication until the very end. She was so impressively dedicated that she had offered her own daughter as a servant from the age of seventeen. Vivienna, of course, followed the Dark Lord without question. It did not take long at all before she was under his spell as well, no pun intended. One might simply call the women stalkers, other stalkers perhaps would file it under dedication. Voldemort had been quite infamous for charming his servants, making each and every one of them feel they were important until they did something to make him believe otherwise. Then they were as good as dead, Vivienna had explained once with a wide and proud grin. But she was special, she swore. The Dark Lord, her one and only, had never left another woman with his seed. He was far too perfect for such a juvenile mistake. This was purposeful.

"You are his heir and you are meant to do the things that he could not finish," she sobbed now into the filthy bathroom sink. "I-I will not allow you to let that go to waste. In a week's time, you will be starting your sixth year at Hogwarts, just as he did."

"And what strings are you planning to pull, exactly?" He humored her.

"His followers were there at his end, they will have no choice but to be there for your beginning."


End file.
